


Nocturne

by supermagicalshounen



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Home Invasion, I do what I want, M/M, Mild Blood, Overstimulation, Slight Horror Elements, Trans Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Trans Michael Shelley, hyper tdick, i think we can all agree that michael, idk if i need to tag that but, michael does show up uninvited so, the usual amount of body horror for michael, well my cis character streak is over
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:41:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supermagicalshounen/pseuds/supermagicalshounen
Summary: Jon gets an unexpected visitor. Michael gets to play with the archivist.
Relationships: Michael | The Distortion/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 48





	Nocturne

**Author's Note:**

> So a few things:  
> -I use he/it pronouns interchangeably for Michael. Hope that doesn't get too confusing!  
> -This is supposed to take place post episode 47  
> -Jon is trans  
> -Michael is also trans but i used the distortion's effect as an excuse to give him a huge tdick  
> -Tdick is just a term some trans men tend to use for their genitals if you don't know  
> -I just went ahead and tagged it as M/M since Michael himself identifies as a man, even though the distortion's gender is ?????????  
> -If i forgot to tag anything let me know! Otherwise I hope you enjoy!

Jon set his glasses on the table beside his bed, stretching and laying down under the covers. He turned to his side, arm under his pillow, and let his eyes close. He was exhausted, like he always was after reading a statement. And his encounter with that thing, that “Michael” had left him more shaken up than usual. He tried to relax, tried to push the thoughts out of his mind of long, spindly fingers like spider legs digging into him and the wide unnerving grin with teeth that seemed almost too long, and pressed his face harder into his pillow. After a bout of tossing and turning, he accepted that maybe he wasn’t quite ready to go to bed yet after all. 

He got up and put his glasses back on, walking to the small kitchenette in his flat to make himself some tea. He filled the kettle with water and set it to boil while he got out the box of teabags. Once he set it on the counter, he did a double take when he saw the box of sugar cubes sitting on it as well. Had he already gotten them out? He must have… Jon looked around for a moment before sighing and shaking his head. It was probably just him being overly paranoid after today’s excitement. He’d been more jumpy since the Jane Prentiss business too, though certainly not as much as Martin, who yelped and jumped every time a loose thread from his sweater brushed against his hand. It must be his mind playing tricks on him, Jon thought. The kettle beeped at him when the water had boiled, and he poured some into a mug, setting a teabag into it to let it steep. He brought it over to the small table in the room, setting it down along with the sugar cubes, and sat down to wait.

He rested his chin on his hand, spacing out and letting his eyes wander across his small living space. He hadn’t bothered turning on the lights; the streetlights and the moonlight streaming in through the thin curtains illuminated everything just enough for him to see. They cast an almost eerie glow over it all, making everything seem to glow with a silvery halo. Jon stirred the teabag around for a moment before looking up at the room again, only to see the curtains move slightly. Almost like something had brushed against them. He clenched his jaw, swallowing hard. They’d probably been moving before and he just hadn’t noticed. He stood up and walked over to the window, checking behind and around the curtains before sighing and pulling them closed again when he found nothing. It was nerves, Jon told himself, just nerves. He was home, and nothing could get him here. He didn’t actually know how true that was, but he liked to tell himself that, and he figured he would until he was proven wrong. He sat back down, slightly irritated, and took the teabag out of his mug. He threw it away, and put just a few sugar cubes in it. He was already going to have to brush his teeth again, so he figured he might as well have the sugar anyway. It was probably counterintuitive to put sugar in chamomile tea, but at this point he was past caring. He stirred it up and watched the sugar dissolve into nothing. Jon downed it quick, not caring that it was still a bit too hot to drink comfortably, and set the mug back in the sink. He’d had enough of scaring himself by staying up. He needed to go to bed.

He crawled back into bed, huffing and turning away from his door this time. His eyes closed, and he finally felt able to relax a bit. His breathing became heavy and slow, and just as he was on the edge of sleep, he felt something brush against his cheek. He pushed his hair out of the way, and thought to himself that it might be time for a haircut soon. His eyes began to feel heavier, and it was like everything was getting fuzzy and dull. He heard what sounded like a voice, and he assumed it must be his dreams calling to him. He couldn’t quite make out the word at first, but when it came again he could hear it, a gentle voice like a whisper in the wind.

_...Archivist… _

Jon was ready to go to it if it meant he got some rest, and he felt his consciousness blurring at the edges, like watercolor bleeding out into paper. He was right on the edge of sleep when he heard it.

A doorknob turning.

It was a distant, quiet sound. He almost wasn’t sure it was real at first, but he heard the soft creak of hinges a moment later, and his eyes shot open. He stayed still, waiting to see if this was just his mind playing tricks on him again or if someone really was opening the door to his bedroom. He didn’t hear footsteps, but he felt something. It was like pressure, like static in his head. His eyes watered, and he squeezed them shut, hoping that this was just a very odd dream. All at once the pressure in his head lifted, and he felt a moment of relief. Until he felt weight on the other side of his bed. His eyes opened again, and his heart was hammering in his chest. No, no, no. This had to be a dream. The weight continued to press down on the mattress, until finally it seemed to be settled. Jon felt like he might be sick when he felt something on his shoulder. He couldn’t place it at first, the feeling of tiny pinpricks, but he felt long, spindly appendages settling on his shoulder and he knew exactly what he was going to see when he turned around.

“Archivist… It’s very rude to ignore a guest…” The same soft voice that seemed to call from his dreams came from behind him, and that laugh, the laugh like a headache, it was too close to him for comfort. He turned around, face to face with the thing that called itself Michael. Closer than he ever wanted to be. He’d been half considering saying something, but the words died in his throat when its eyes locked with his.

They seemed to glow in the dark, a bright, unnatural green with what seemed to be a kind of spiral within them. When Jon tried to make sense of where it started or ended, it just seemed to keep going, deeper and deeper… like it was drawing him in…

Impossibly long fingers wrapped around his throat, snapping Jon out of the daze. He gasped, eyes wide. He reached up, tugging at the thing’s grip, but it didn’t do anything.

“What do you want?” He asked, trying not to sound as scared as he was.

“My, my. Where are your manners, Archivist? Not even a hello?” It laughed again, and Jon glared. “Alright… Well, if you must know, I wanted to play with you more, Archivist… Something about you is so fascinating to me…” Its-his-free hand pushed Jon’s hair out of his face, smile unfaltering in its wideness. Jon swallowed, his eyes fixed on the sharp fingers near his face. 

“Wh-Why? And how can you be here?” Jon managed to ask, a shiver running up his spine as the thing calling himself Michael laughed again. 

“I can be anywhere I like, Archivist… And I thought it might be fun to pay you a visit. I didn’t get my fill of toying with you today.” His smile widened more, if that was possible, and his free hand moved to toss the blankets off of Jon’s bed. The creature sat up, holding Jon by the neck and taking him with him. “I don’t often get the chance to be near a human as fascinating as you…”

“What’s so special about me?” Jon was shaking all over now, unable to hide his dread.

“You still don’t know? Well, it’s not my place to tell you… I’ll leave that to your… friends.” When he said this, the word “friends” seemed awkward on his lips, like he wasn’t quite sure what it was. “It’s not important that you know right now.”

“What are you going to do with me?” Jon asked, fear coiling in his stomach at the prospect of the answer to that question. Michael laughed again, raking his eyes over Jon’s body in a way that was almost… hungry.

“You’ll see.” He said, hand slipping underneath Jon’s t-shirt. His spider-like fingers gently trailed over Jon’s skin, giving him chills. All of a sudden, in one swift motion, the sharp claw-like tip of one of his fingers ripped through the shirt, making Jon yelp as it fell down his shoulders. “That’s better…” Michael’s tongue flicked out over his lips briefly, and Jon caught a glimpse of how long it was. He whimpered, squeezing his eyes shut. The thing’s hand moved down to the waistband of his pajama pants, and yanked them off along with his underwear smoothly, tossing them aside. Jon swallowed hard, completely exposed now. He hesitantly opened his eyes to see Michael looking his body over. His breathing seemed a little heavier, and that hungry look in his eyes was even stronger now. Jon wondered briefly if this thing planned on eating him, until its eyes flicked back up to meet his.

“You are going to cooperate, Archivist. Or I promise you won’t like what happens to the people you care about.” The grin was gone for the first time Jon had ever seen, and he knew that Michael was serious. He nodded, feeling the grip on his throat release and watched that horrible smile stretch across the thing’s face once again. “Very good.” It said, shoving him down onto his bed and sitting back to look him over. His large hands locked around Jon’s thighs now, pushing his legs apart and making the archivist bite his lip. He looked away, not wanting to acknowledge that something about this was making his stomach twist in a way that didn’t just indicate fear. The thing calling itself Michael didn’t say anything, just looked him over for a moment, before letting go of one of his thighs and tracing a finger down Jon’s sternum and over his stomach, stopping where the trail of thick, dark hair began just above his lower abdomen. He didn’t say anything, just studied him for a moment before moving his finger lower, gently dragging the tip of it along the entrance of Jon’s cunt. He bit back a cry, goosebumps rising all over his skin. Michael looked at his face, taking his finger away. 

“I suppose I wouldn’t want to skewer you, would I?” His grin seemed to betray his words, but he thankfully seemed to decide against doing so. Jon’s breath of relief only lasted a moment before he watched Michael’s head duck down between his legs, and he realized exactly what was going to happen next. He felt his face heat up, his heartbeat picking up speed again. Those twisted hypnotic eyes looked up at him from between his legs, and Jon couldn’t hold back the noise he made this time, somewhere between fear and arousal.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Archivist…” Michael laughed. “I only want to taste you…” Jon watched the creature’s tongue, impossibly long like his fingers, slip out of his mouth before he felt the wet heat of it against his clit. Jon whimpered loudly and suddenly, arching his back and feeling tears prick at his eyes. It was so overwhelming, he hadn’t had anyone do this in so long… Michael dragged his tongue over Jon’s cunt, making the archivist moan shamefully. His head felt fuzzy again, and his mouth fell open, tongue hanging out. It was so much, and it felt so good… Michael’s tongue moved again, this time slipping inside of him, and Jon bit his knuckle to keep from being too loud. Michael seemed amused by his reactions, and after a moment he pressed his palm against Jon’s clit, grinding it against him. Jon groaned, his back arching again at the feeling.

“F-Fuck, don’t, I’m going to… Ah…” He whimpered, an orgasm already threatening to overtake him. Michael didn’t stop, continuing to rub Jon’s clit roughly, tongue moving inside the archivist, tasting him, making Jon’s head swim with pleasure. Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He moaned desperately, clamping a hand over his mouth to keep quiet as he came, feeling Michael’s tongue withdraw from inside of him, leaving him empty and aching, but the feeling of something so large being pulled out of him was an intense pleasure on its own, wracking his body with another wave of arousal. Once he’d finished, his body went limp, and he looked up at the monster, sitting up now, laughing that dizzying laugh that almost never seemed to stop.

“You’re going to repay the favor now, aren’t you, Archivist?” Michael asked, voice lilting and almost mocking. Jon gasped for air, his throat dry. He was so tired, so wiped out, but he still felt the ache of arousal deep in the pit of his stomach. He needed more. Jon nodded weakly, panting from the intensity of his orgasm. “Very good.” Michael grinned, and Jon realized his pants were already down around his thighs. He wasn’t sure when the creature had taken them off, but he could see his erection now. It took him a moment to realize there was something different about it. Different yet familiar. He sat up, reaching out, fingers grazing it, pulling a warped sigh from the monster in his bed. Jon wrapped his hand around it, and he suddenly realized what was different. Michael was like him, but his clit was much, much larger. The size of an average cock. Jon swallowed hard, wondering if that was even possible, before realizing that he was jerking off an 6 and a half foot monster with giant spindly hands and some sort of otherworldly influence, and he figured that this was probably the least alarming thing about Michael.

He continued to stroke the creature’s cock, listening to its distorted moans of pleasure. Eventually, Michael wrapped a hand around Jon’s wrist, stopping him.

“Lay down, Archivist.” He ordered, and Jon did as he was told, spreading his legs. He was unsure if this would even work. Michael held Jon’s hips, rubbing the head of his cock against Jon’s entrance, still slick from his first orgasm, and then plunged it into him all at once. They both gasped at the sensation, and Michael looked down at him, eyes wide and glowing brighter than ever. His grin made Jon’s stomach flutter, and after a moment he began to move. Jon watched as this monster’s cock plunged in and out of him, slick with his arousal, hitting the deepest spots inside him. Michael was mostly silent as he fucked Jon, watching the human’s expression intently. Jon was still more sensitive from his previous orgasm than he realized, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long. After a while, Michael easily maneuvered Jon onto his lap, making the human ride him. Jon could see his face more clearly now, smile morphed into an expression of concentration and arousal. He cried out as Michael’s clawlike fingers dug into his thigh and ran down his back, but he felt his clit ache as he did it. Something about the pain was almost intoxicating. He was so close, and he was sure Michael could tell, as he began fucking Jon harder and rougher. His claws dug deeper, and there was no doubt in Jon’s mind that he must be bleeding, but he couldn’t help it. He cried out as he came, grasping Michael’s shoulders desperately as his vision darkened. After a few moments, the creature let out a soft gasp, and Jon felt his cock twitching relentlessly as Michael came. His claws dug deeper, and as Jon’s vision went black, the last thing he heard was that distorted laugh, louder and more unhinged than he’d ever heard it before.

***

Jon woke up to the light of early dawn streaming through his window as his alarm went off. He sighed and let his eyes flutter closed again, the only thought in his mind getting ready for the day. He rolled over to turn off his alarm and cried out when a sharp pain seared through him. He sat up in a panic, and as he tossed his covers aside, he was greeted by deep red stains on his sheets, and the realization that he was naked. A cold wave of shame and dread washed over him as he remembered what had happened to him last night. He sighed aggravatedly, turning off his alarm and getting up out of bed. He winced, and for a moment, he was sure he could hear a distant, distorted laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! If you liked it, please leave a comment! This isn't the follow up to my previous TMA fic I was planning, but I had this idea and I needed to write it because I'm feral. I'll still write that one hopefully lmao. But yeah! Please do comment. They keep me writing. Thank you so much and again I really hope you enjoyed it! I had fun writing it. <3


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